TERMINUS: For Those Who Love to Eat
by umbrella0326
Summary: Using the awesome Andrea from the novels, NOT the TV show! Andrea destroys Terminus and rescues Rick and the others. But when Andrea is captured, can she escape? This story replaces Carol with Andrea. Takes place in Season 4. Rated T. I do not own TWD.
1. Chapter 1

Smoke. Fire. Explosions. Walkers.

So much smoke. Smoke that becomes its own wall and isolates you from the world around you. Smoke that crushes air and smashes your nostrils with unwanted odors – burning flesh, exploded bullets, melting organs. Smoke that cannot filter noises you never want to hear again – pleas for help, dying men begging for their mothers, emotionless moans of walkers, survivors' screams while being eaten, smashing glass, crunching flesh in walker mouths.

There was no end in sight for the smoke. The nearest building _had_ to provide an avenue of escape. There was no choice.

So, Andrea ran towards a door, breaking formation from the rest of the walkers. Before she attacked the railroad station Terminus, Andrea killed a walker and smeared its guts all over her poncho. This created a very effective camouflage effect and allowed her to roam along with the walkers. However, a few had caught on to her trick and followed her. But the gorgeous blonde was no match for them. And even as they neared her, Andrea had already closed and bolted the door shut. She ignored their banging on the door and their guttural moans as she turned around to find herself in a makeshift warehouse.

Panting from exhaustion and smoke inhalation, she ignored the blaring alarms and strobe-like red lights. She quickly walked past steel racks, partially empty and nearly collapsing from overuse. Her head up and eyes forward, she picked up her pace, looking for something, _anything_ to add to her already impressive arsenal of weapons. By the time she looked the room over, she was racing to the far end to get out. There had to be weapons in other rooms. Had she been looking down at all, she would've seen the pagan altar the Terminans created for their god.

Andrea found herself in a hallway. At the far right end was a door with a window. She saw a lot of smoke, as expected, and a few people running. And, of course, a walker or five were ambling along. She turned to the left, ran down the hallway, and looked through the window in the door. The room inside was like an Army-lover's dream.

Andrea eagerly opened the door and looked over the weapons, both foreign and familiar. After grabbing two huge backpacks, she began scooping up handgun after handgun, rifles with day and night scopes, automatic weapons, even a familiar looking and beat up crossbow. Smile intact, she grabbed a few Claymore grenades and RPGs, and headed out the door. She didn't even bother to close it as she adjusted the bulky backpacks around her shoulders. After all, why bother?

Her smile dropped a little as she tried to comprehend how she'd carry the enormous bundle out of the burning and walker-filled railroad station. She knelt down and repositioned some of the weapons a little more evenly. After that, it was just a matter of weight. She thought she could handle that. And she was right.

Standing back up, she placed both straps of the backpacks criss-crossed along her body and was satisfied with her progress. Her wide smile returned and she turned down the hall. Ignoring the chaos she heard outside, Andrea found it difficult to run and thanked her lucky stars that she did _not_ throw away the gory poncho. She could just find the walkers and join them for a while, walk along with them, and get out of the burning Terminus.

Andrea opened the door.

"Hands up!"

Andrea saw a disheveled woman, dirty and mentally unstable, holding a handgun towards her. The smoke behind her concealed the burning world beyond both of them. Andrea just looked at the woman and said nothing.

"I said hands _ARRRGGHH!_ "

Three walkers surprised her from the left. Blood exploded out of the woman's throat, arm, and ankle. She turned and ran the other way. There _had_ to be another way out. There just had to be!

The smoke in the warehouse was now becoming a serious problem. Ducking a little and covering her mouth with her hand, she struggled to maneuver with the hefty weight on her shoulders. She crossed this way and that, trying to peer through the smoke to follow the red 'EXIT' signs. And as she moved along, her knees and back complained – searing pain coursed through her thin body. But she had to get out. Now!

Finally, she found an Emergency Exit door. A relieved sigh escaping, she ran to it and pushed open the door. And what appeared before her would make the hardest of veterans cringe in horror.

At least a dozen Terminans were on the ground being killed and eaten by walkers. A Jeep down the alley was on fire. Smoke surrounded her and an explosion could be heard somewhere nearby. Completely lost and turned around, Andrea turned to the right, hoping to find the nearest exit out of Terminus.

She would regret turning right for the remainder of her life.

Andrea moved quickly – she avoided walkers, leaped over heaps of bricks and wooden beams and dead bodies, scooted around partial walls, jumped over pools of blood. She turned right and then later left and then still later turned right. Left then left again. Right, then left and right. And that's when she faced the realization of her little plan –

She didn't find Rick and the others.

Suddenly, the high wall to her right strained and groaned with its weight. She looked up in horror and turned around, running for her life. The wall finally gave way!

As best she could, she took off running! But it was too late. The wall crashed behind her, sending bricks and wall joists hurtling in all directions. Andrea fell when a hot brick smashed on her left calf. Seared with pain, she struggled to get the guns and ammo back into her backpacks. She coughed the entire time, while sounds of screams from the fighting living began to die down. Andrea laughed to herself at how darkly funny that sounded.

Finally, amidst more flying debris and the seemingly endless smoke, Andrea got every single item she stole back in the backpack and stood up. And for the first time since she attacked Terminus, she stood up and smiled.

Across the way, beyond burning vehicles and partial buildings, she made eye contact with the leader of her group, separated for way too long…

Rick Grimes.

She tried to wave, but the backpacks only allowed her to raise her arm a little bit. And as the sunshine had just barely begun to peek through the smoke, she saw Rick smile back at her.

"You bitch!"

Andrea turned to her left only to be punched in the face! She fell back and would've fallen on the uneven concrete. But the backpacks cushioned her fall. Another wall nearby had just collapsed, effectively cutting her off from Rick. And when she looked up, she saw a man with a rag tied over his mouth and brown hair staring down at her.

"You fucking bitch!" he roared. "You would steal from us?!"

"You-"

She tried to retort, but she had inhaled too much smoke. An enormous coughing fit shut her up. She was forced to roll on her right side, almost in a fetal position. But the man snarled, completely annoyed and _angry_! So, he grabbed her wrist and began to drag her down the alley!

"No!" Andrea screamed. And in response, the man kicked her in the ribs! She screamed in pain as he continued to drag her. Her vision was clouded with so much smoke, debris, fire, and the screams of the dying. And as best as her lungs allowed it, she fought back. She kicked on the ground, twisted her body, screamed, _anything_ to get this…this _man_ to stop dragging her.

"Let me go!" Andrea screamed.

The man ignored her, dragging her around a corner. There wasn't as much smoke here. Or walkers. Or humans. Or…anything. And that meant there wasn't as much noise either.

" _Let me go!_ " she violently screamed.

"Shut the fuck up, bitch!"

More dragging. More kicks from Andrea. More of anything and everything. Andrea couldn't die at Terminus. She couldn't die like this!

"Goddamnit! Let. Me. _GO!_ " And with that, she gave a wild twist of her arm and nearly escaped. But the man came to a stop, hiked his leg up, held it, and Andrea shut her eyes, bracing for the impact.

The man stomped on her left breast!

Andrea had never screamed that loudly from pain in her life!

"I _said_ ," he cruelly ordered, " _Shut_..the _fuck_ … _UP!_ "

He began dragging her. She still fought as best she could, but the radiating, lung-crushing pain held her in check. She could feel pebbles, dirt, even nails under her back and buttocks. But Andrea was powerless to stop him. She opened her eyes and regretted it.

She had no idea how powerful that explosion truly was. At least three buildings were no longer completely there. One was completely reduced to rubble. Several others had significant damage.

And the fires. Nearly everywhere, flames licked walls, building clouds of smoke that, thanks to a steady breeze, flowed northwest. The screams of the living were no longer heard – but the dying bellowed out their last, painful moments for Andrea to remember the rest of her life. A walker or two could be seen, but most of them had self-important tasks at hand. That thought always made her shiver.

And as she was being dragged, she resigned to what was happening to her, stunned into a stupor of violence, fear, and the horrible feeling of being trapped.

And _still_ , the masked man dragged her. For minutes, he hauled and hauled and it seemed to go on forever…

Finally, the masked man came to a halt. It seemed he struggled for air as well, for he was nearly gasping, his iron-tight grip on her wrist not relaxing one bit. He didn't stop for very long before Andrea was being dragged again. But this time, she got caught on an uneven rock lodged in the path. Annoyed, he snarled and viciously yanked on her arm, jolting her backpacks beneath her. She watched the ground as he dragged her away. A package of .45 calibre bullets dislodged and emptied one-by-one on the ground as he walked.

Within minutes, they were no longer on any kind of path that she could see. And very soon, Andrea looked up to see trees and bushes. The pair were no longer at the train station – they were now in the woods. Andrea was completely panic-stricken!

"Hey!" she screamed. "Hey-!" Another coughing fit and enormous, radiated pain engulfed her senses, smashing her lungs shut. She tried her best to get air into her lungs. "Where are you taking me? Hey asshole! Where the fuck-?!"

"I swear to God," the man quietly said with venom in his voice, "if you don't shut the fuck up, I will gut you here. I can let the fucking dead ones eat you while you're alive. Got it?"

"But you're hurt."

Surprised, the man looked at the arm that was dragging the blonde woman. He looked down to see three or four rivers of blood draining down his arm from his bicep. Seems like one of those flying shards of glass cut him. Undeterred, he simply resumed dragging her.

"Just shut up."

The went further into the woods. But Andrea wasn't done.

"You could bleed to death, you fucking dumb ass!" Andrea hollered. "Do you really want to-?"

Suddenly, the man let go of her hand. Her arm plopped on the forest floor. And before she could even _think_ of escape, he stomped on her arm with his army boot, holding her in place. He partially turned away from her and she couldn't see what he was doing. But she didn't care.

"The others?" Andrea nastily said. "They'll find me. And when they do, I swear to God they'll-!"

She suddenly felt a handkerchief cover her mouth and nose. She immediately smelled it and realized some chemical coated it. Violently alarmed, her eyes widened and she struggled under the rag. But he held it firm over her mouth and nose.

"Shh, shh, shhhhh." He cooed. And a few seconds later, Andrea stopped struggling. And another few more seconds later, she was unconscious.

"I didn't want to _have_ to do that." He muttered. He put the bottle back in his own backpack, readjusted it, reached for her wrist, and drug her unresponsive body further into the forest. Her backpack was never adjusted, as bullet after bullet popped out from time to time.

They'd probably gone a couple of miles into the woods before he stopped, needing a rest.

He refused to look behind him. His home had been destroyed. He didn't know how. He didn't know why. But in this cruel, unforgiving world, he was now homeless. And he didn't like that one bit.

The man took a seat on a nearby dilapidated log. He grabbed a water bottle and took a healthy swig of the clear liquid. When that was done, he screwed the cap back on and put it back into the bowels of his backpack. He almost braved a look at what was left of Terminus. But he just couldn't do it.

His home was gone. Just…gone.

He let his eyes drift over to the unconscious blonde near him. He found he couldn't take his eyes off her meaty thighs.

.


	2. Chapter 2

AN – Fans of the show should remember what Terminus was. This chapter deals with this. You've been warned.

.

* * *

.

 _You can talk about cha-cha_

 _Tango, waltz, or the rumba_

 _Senora's dance has no title_

 _You jump in the saddle, hold onto the bridle_

 _Jump in the line – rock your body in time_

.

As Andrea was waking up, she was greeted with the most unexpected and unusual image. Three men were dancing like Winona Ryder's character at the end of _Beetlejuice_. Her head rolled from side to side, shaking off the effects of the drug from the day before. She took a moment to view her surroundings – she was in a small building. An opened shed, perhaps. Three men were dancing to no one at all, while a boombox played the classic Harry Belafonte calypso song.

She coughed. One of the men noticed her stirring and smiled at her. Andrea tried to get up, but the ropes binding her hands and feet prevented that. She wasn't surprised – just annoyed. She leaned over to the side and spit. Rapidly blinking her eyes, she looked at them.

None of them wore a bandana across their faces and they all looked similar to each other – brown hair, medium build and height. Any one of them could've kidnapped her from Terminus and brought her…wherever she was. The song came to an end.

"Beetlejuice," Andrea slurred, still a little drugged, "Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice."

"You're awake!" one of them exclaimed.

"If only you could disappear like Beetlejuice."

"Ohhhh, now. Be nice."

The guy in the middle leaned down and pressed a button on the boombox, turning it off. Then, he grabbed a water bottle, walked over to her, and held it to her mouth. She eyed him cautiously.

"Don't worry." He said with a little smile. "It's not drugged."

That didn't deter her suspicion. Nevertheless, she opened her mouth and accepted the water. It was a hot, sunny day in central Georgia and the water felt good going into her mouth. So good, in fact, that she relished it in her mouth for a few seconds before swallowing three gulps. Andrea tilted her head back, indicating she was done. A little cough escaped her mouth and didn't even bother to turn her head in politeness. Why bother? She'd been kidnapped, after all.

The man half-smiled and stood up, effectively towering over her.

"I'm Joel." He politely said. Then, he pointed over to the two other men. "And that's Larry. And Bill." And then, he returned his gaze to her, his voice going a little dark. "We're…pretty much all that's left of the fine people of Terminus. Well, except for…" He trailed off, cleared his throat, and said, "You remember that place, don'tcha blondie? That place you destroyed?"

"You deserved it." Andrea replied, wriggling a little in her binds. "You had my friends tied up. You put them in a boxcar, like you were taking them to Auschwitz."

"Auschwitz?" Joel asked. "Oh no. We're not…cruel." Suddenly, he kicked her thigh. She winced a little from the pain but otherwise made no other move to defend herself or retaliate. "But you, on the other hand…" He stooped down to look her in the eye. "You destroyed our home. We had been there for years." And then, he menacingly got in her face. "You fuckin' bitch."

"Ahhhh." Andrea said, with a cruel smile that almost matched his. "So, _you're_ the one that dragged me off."

Joel, caught off guard, slowly stood up and rapidly blinked. He turned and angrily marched off to join his two cohorts.

Some time passed. It was a sunny, hot day in central Georgia, as some birds chirped and an occasional walker was dispatched. Andrea watched the three men for a while until she got bored with that. Then, she turned and noticed that her enormous backpacks from the previous day's attack were nowhere to be found. She wasn't surprised. Since both packs were full of sophisticated and powerful guns, _all_ weapons were a crucial necessity in this cruel and unforgiving world. When haven't they been?

Her stomach growled from hunger. Her thigh ached a little from Joel's kick. Her shoulders complained from chronic pain – hours were stretching throughout the day and her binds were making the pain worse. And, as usual, she was thirsty.

Just a typical day these days for Andrea.

Suddenly, a car could be heard from afar. That got all three of the men's attentions and automatically, their hands tightened on their weapons ( _Andrea's_ weapons). And soon, a tan sedan pulled up and parked near the shed. Bill, Larry, and finally, Joel smiled at the driver. And a seemingly ordinary man emerged from the driver's seat, looking like all four could be quadruplets. This man too had brown hair, medium build and height. But this new arrival's smile seemed forced. It was as if he were fulfilling some kind of leadership and/or political duty, or simply tolerating the other three. Whatever the case may be, he greeted the others haphazardly. And then, Joel whispered in this man's ear and within a few seconds, both men were looking at her.

Andrea suddenly felt a shiver go down her spine like no other in her life. He looked at her _deeply_ – as if he were looking _through_ her or something. Another lightning-quick shiver slammed through her body before she forced herself to regain her composure. She couldn't recall ever being stared at like that before.

The new arrival licked his lips at her, returned to Joel and nodded, clapping him on the shoulder.

The three Terminans seemed satisfied and walked off in various directions, presumably to their respective outlook posts.

But not this guy. Never taking his eyes off her, he headed right towards Andrea. Passing clouds played with the sunlight, making the man's brown hair shimmer and fade. Again, a not-so-cooling breeze blew through the garage or shed or whatever the structure was, not even bothering to help cool the stage that was being set. She watched this guy getting closer and closer, one hand on his hip, but the other curiously behind him. Andrea didn't like this one bit.

Finally, he stopped a few feet away from her, towering over her with that nerve-wracking smile.

"Hello." The man simply said.

Andrea looked up at him but didn't say a word.

He huffed. "I heard an interesting story earlier today." He began to shift on his feet a little, fiddling with a water bottle with his free hand. However, he still didn't remove his other hand from behind his back.

When Andrea didn't respond, he mannequin-like smiled down at her, watching a tuft of a second breeze blow some of her hair in her eyes. As a courtesy, he reached down to pull it away from her eyes. But Andrea shrunk back, staring at his hand with a mixture of fear and hate.

And for the first time since she saw him, his smile faded.

"I'm only trying to help." He kindly offered with a soft frown.

"Then," Andrea began, shaking the hair out of her eyes and ignoring the pain in her shoulders, "let me go."

"Oh, sugar lumps," he condescendingly began, "you know I can't do that." He squatted down, staring at her at eye-level. "And besides…" He further pushed her hair back behind her ear with almost tender fingers. And then suddenly, he snatched her throat and squeezed, cutting off her air instantaneously! Her eyes automatically bulged and she was shocked to see what happened next.

He smiled.

His grip didn't loosen as she struggled. "I heard you were the one who destroyed our home."

The brown-haired man suddenly released her and volleys of coughs from Andrea's throat plagued the air. She didn't even turn away, letting her chokes of air flow into his face. But instead of being disgusted, he closed his eyes, relishing in her attempts.

As he slowly opened them, he said, "You're hungry. You have hunger breath."

She ignored him.

"Let me get you something to eat." And with that, he stood back up, smile in full forced. "And don't worry. You'll _love_ what's on the menu."

"Can…?" Andrea struggled, swallowed, and asked, "Can you, at least…untie me?"

"Nope."

"Please?"

"Nope." He straightened his shoulders, like a soldier at attention. "You see," he waved to the others, "we don't care if you're uncomfortable. And besides," he creepily eyed her up and down, "we have plans for you, sugar lumps."

She shook her head in disgust, looking down. "Then, can I ask you a question?"

He looked away thoughtfully for a moment before answering, "Well, you can ask, but I can't guarantee I'll answer to a bitch like you-"

"What's your name?"

He looked at her bewildered. "That? _That's_ your question? Not, 'where are we?' or 'what are you going to do to me?' or…anything?! That's what you want to know?"

Andrea nodded.

He shook his head in reluctant admiration. "Alright. There's no harm in it." He turned fully towards her and with his best respect possible, he announced, "My name is Gareth."

"Gareth." She repeated.

"Yup."

"Good."

He looked at her, surprised. "Good?"

"'Yup'"

He seemed charmed. "Why?"

She took her good ol' sweet time raising her head to look him in the eye before she quietly yet firmly said, "I always want to know the name of the man I'm going to kill."

He chuckled, heavily amused, but said nothing.

"And…" a coughing fit hit her and she had to spit to the side, "And my name isn't 'bitch' or 'sugar lumps' or whatever. My name is-"

"I know your name… _bitch. Sugar lumps._ " He drew menacingly closer. And louder. " _Or sugar tits. Or sugar cunt. Or any goddamn name the others have given you!_ "

Andrea barely blinked as he got closer and closer to her face. And despite Gareth's attempt at choking her, his hand retreated back behind him again. He gently stroked her face before letting his hand lightly touch her left thigh. She immediately jumped a little, fearing an attempted rape.

But instead, he bolted upright, turned about face, and marched away from her. And in her hazy vision, she finally saw what was in his backpocket that he seemed to hold so preciously.

A small salt and pepper set.

.

It was hard for Andrea to see the four men. Three of them were still standing, after all this time, in their usual spots just outside the structure. She couldn't feel her arms anymore and her legs were bouncing from spasms. Squirming helped and didn't help. In sum, she had nowhere to go and nothing to do.

Andrea wanted to learn more about them – their habits, their personalities, their duty schedules, etc. But she couldn't do it from where she was. She struggled to find a way to do this until her very own body provided her an option.

"Hey guys?" Andrea announced. They didn't hear. "Hey _guys?!_ "

Joel turned around. It was only then that she noticed Gareth wasn't in sight.

"What?!" Joel answered, heavily annoyed.

"I have to take a piss!"

"Piss in your own pants, sugar lumps!"

That response got a few laughs from the other two. Andrea had already forgotten their names, as they didn't seem very significant to the crew leader Joel and group leader Gareth.

"Pleeeeease? Pleee _eeease?!_ "

If there's one thing Andrea remembered being a pretty blonde is that despite what you may do in life, men will respond to a pretty woman. She knew she wasn't unattractive and thought she could use that. And as luck would have it, it worked.

Joel grunted and marched towards her, coming to an alarming stop just a few feet from her.

"This had," Joel threateningly began, "better not be some kind of trick."

"I have no guns or knives. I've been tied up for hours and my body aches. I'm in absolutely no position to harm you or the others."

Joel considered this for a long moment before reluctantly reaching down to her left arm and lifting her up. She instantly regretted her decision. Lightning shocks of pain coursed through her body, making her fall right back down on the first attempt. Joel growled and yanked her back up. Her hands were tied behind her back and her feet were also tied together. He reached behind him and grabbed a huge Bowie knife – _her_ knife.

"If you fucking try-"

"I won't. I can't."

He half-smiled and bent down, untying her binds at her shins. Waves of strange sensations could be felt as she could lift her feet of her own accord. Mobility was still a bit of a struggle, but the omnipresent Joel held her upright.

"Thank you." She whispered.

He looked her in the eye for a brief moment, rapidly blinked, and pulled her away from the structure. Each step was both painful and wonderful, blood and nerve sensors flowing more freely then. The two passed the other two on duty, who didn't even notice them going into the woods. As they walked, Andrea saw a bullet or two dropped from her bag, lying on the forest floor's path. Joel took her into the woods, out of eyesight, for about twenty feet or so.

"Here." He suddenly announced. "Go."

She helplessly looked around before turning to face him. And then, she sheepishly said, "You'll have to help me."

"W-what?" Joel asked, like a little kid.

"My hands are tied behind my back. I can't pull down my pants."

Joel groaned, looking away.

"Come on, man! I need your help. The sooner we get this done, the better."

He heavily sighed and, turning his head, reached for the waistline of her military green, dirty pants. And that's when it happened.

She kneed him in the groin, sending Joel hurtling towards the ground!

And when he fell, she kicked him in the teeth, blood spraying outwards. Moans and groans of pain could be heard as she turned and headed towards the path. She ran. She ran and ran and ran. It was as if Andrea had unexpectedly turned into prey, running from her predators. And that's exactly what it was.

And just as she was able to take off in a full sprint, she was tackled from behind! Andrea shrieked, feeling her bladder release its contents down her leg. And situated on top of her was none other than her sudden nemesis.

Gareth.

"I should've," he menacingly said, "known that you'd try something. Bitch."

He roughly pulled her up and dragged her back towards the structure, her feet kicking on the dirt as best she could. Waves of sadness, frustration, and worst of all, fear tugged at her body and the first of her tears fell on her face. And as he dragged her, he said some words that she'd never, _ever_ forget.

"We're preparing a good dinner tonight, sugar lumps." He came to a stop, looking downwards into her eye. "You see, we're going to eat you tonight."

.


	3. Chapter 3

AN – This might come as a surprise to you, but I use a classic cheerleader's cheer in this chapter. If you're unfamiliar with cheers, you may not understand a portion of this.

In addition, this will be the last chapter I post for quite a while with _any_ story. Family, work, and health obligations are forcing me to set aside quite a lot in my life. It's very, very regrettable, but I have no choice. I'm going to miss _all_ of my Internet friends and family, both from Glee and The Walking Dead. Every single one of you – garethglee14, scotsmum64, precious-passenger, Linneagb, and Ilovesmesomeglee. I wish I could continue right now, but my life is taking me away. I truly will miss you all.

Until I'm ready to return, please enjoy chapter 3.

* * *

"One of the things," Gareth began, chewing on a piece of meat, "about Southern cooking," he chewed some more, "is that when you have to," he chomped his mandibles grossly up and down, "sweeten something," then he looked at Andrea, loudly swallowing his food, "you have a variety of options."

He reached for more of the meat on the open pit as Andrea watched from her tied-up position nearby. The pole she was tied to had the Confederate flag on top and swayed gently in the dusk breeze. Gareth crudely stabbed some meat on his poker and offered it to her. She turned away, disgusted. He shrugged and shoved it in his mouth. Andrea struggled not to vomit. Gareth noticed.

"Oh, for Christ sakes, sugar lumps!" he exclaimed. "It's fucking rabbit, you snobby bitch!"

She didn't believe him. It didn't matter. She turned her head towards the almost nighttime sky, oddly loving the purple, blue, and orange of the Georgian summer sunset. She surmised that Rick and the others must've escaped and headed that way. That comforting thought actually made her smile a little.

Gareth looked at her and followed her line of sight.

"I love Georgia sunsets." He dreamily said.

The cannibal bastard ruined the moment for Andrea and she looked down again. Joel and the others were nearby as always, silent guards on duty, now that their leader was there.

"How many were there at Terminus?" Andrea suddenly asked.

At first, Gareth was surprised by the question and then turned away thoughtfully.

"At last count," he began, swallowing more 'rabbit', "we had about fifteen at Terminus." His voice went a little soft. "Friends…family…" He looked at her. "My mother…" He rapidly blinked and turned his attention back to the firepit. "Good people…good people, indeed."

 _You mean good cannibals, you bastard_ , Andrea thought.

A few moments passed. Firewood crackled, Gareth ate, insects chirped, and Andrea hoped. He swatted at an annoying insect before stating, "You're a murderer, Andrea."

"So are you."

Completely caught off guard, Gareth began to exaggeratedly laugh. His mouth, still filled with tiny bits of meat, opened wide towards the nighttime sky as bellows of sarcastic, harsh laughter filled the air. He even had to hold his sides with his free hand. She turned away in revulsion. Gradually, his laughter died down and he kicked some twigs into the fire.

"Ohhhhh, no we're not."

"Ohhhhh, yes you are." She sarcastically replied.

Gareth promptly took a long sidestep towards her and punched her jaw! Her head flopped to the side so violently that the pole wobbled a little. She looked up, watching the Confederate flag shake even more. When she finally was able to sit back up, the pole wiggled a little with her, seemingly binding her hands more tightly behind her. Gareth didn't seem to notice anything but Andrea.

"You didn't let me finish," Gareth said, sitting back down, "what I was trying to say about Southern cooking." He cleared his throat as Andrea stared into the fire. She flicked her head from side to side, getting her bearings.

 _Damn that fucker punches hard._

"Now," the nerdy leader said, "are you ready for a little cooking lesson?"

Andrea spat in his direction.

"I guess that's a yes." After poking the fire a little, he reached into his army surplus bag and pulled out two jars. They were typical mason jars, complete with imitation brass lids. He set them not too far from the fire and clearly in Andrea's field of vision.

"Now, as you can see here," Gareth began, "we have molasses." When he finished turning the jar, Andrea looked in it and saw the wide-mouthed, wide-eyed face of a human being's head.

Andrea vomited. Gareth laughed. Firewood crackled.

"A-are y-y-you," He asked in between hilarious giggles, "O-O-OK now?"

She spat a couple of times and badly needed a washcloth and water. While she was spitting for the last time, the pole she was tied to wobbled a little bit with her, as if that damn pole was her only consolation.

She was very thirsty and hungry. But since she was considered a murderer and destroyed their home, they could've cared less about her needs. She didn't even bother to ask for anything. Even water. Andrea knew what their condescending and arrogant answer would be.

But that's when she began to shake. The horror of what Gareth and his men were tore her psyche apart. She wildly looked around, trying to see where the other cannibals were. Of course she saw Gareth, who was in front of her, and Joel was over by that shed. But the other two weren't in clear sight. Andrea fought off her fear of decapitation as best she could.

"What's wrong, Andrea?" Gareth asked, with what appeared to be concern. "You look nervous."

"I'm fine." She answered, forcing her body and features to remain as neutral as humanly possible.

Gareth smirked. "Of course you are." He studied her for a little while, noticing how her eyes kept shifting and he was picking up other little things about the blonde woman. And then, his eyes drifted down to her thighs. There was no way Andrea could prevent the shivers that drowned her body. Gareth's eyes widened, as well as his smile.

His head snapped up towards her. "Now, where was I?" He looked around and found his jar. He slapped his hand on top of it. "Oh yeah! Molasses!" He bounced the jar on his lap. The head inside rolled and tossed around. Andrea couldn't look at it.

Gareth came to a stop and suddenly, extended the jar towards Andrea!

"It's candy." He said with a smile. "Or, it will be after it cures."

When Andrea was in law school, an old Israeli professor once told her – 'if you have to react in a court of law, you have failed as a lawyer'. At that moment, she thanked her lucky stars for that professor. Andrea's eyes shifted from the jar and its contents, to Gareth. He had a little smile on his face, hoping he'd get the reaction he wanted.

But the blonde, former civil rights attorney didn't give him that satisfaction. Her eyes shifted back and forth repeatedly, while her facial features remained neutral. And even though her insides were another story, her face became arrogant stone. Soon, Gareth's smile began to fade.

"You just," he began, shifting his body to be on all fours, "can't see it good enough." He crawled over to her and placed the jar on her lap.

For just a moment, the lesson that old Israeli professor taught her didn't work. Andrea wanted to scream and scream and scream. Scream for her life. Scream for humanity. Just let out all of the horror and torture that invaded her peaceful existence (she couldn't call this a life) and return to Rick and the others.

She missed them. Terribly. This Gareth person was a true monster – the stuff of fairy tales that were supposed to put good little boys and girls to bed with pleasant dreams of monsters dying horrible deaths, of candy cured the proper way. Andrea just wanted to live.

She bounced back, feeling the pole tremble with her. Andrea found herself looking up at the dark sky, counting stars in an attempt to disassociate herself. It actually worked. A second or two later, she slowly lowered her head and simply stared at the grinning leader. She watched him, noting how he loved to gross people out and mess with them before he killed and ate them. She found her own satisfaction though – she wasn't reacting. In fact, Andrea looked at the jar, studying the guillotined head, now almost upside down in the jar. She could see where the top of the spinal cord had been crudely severed.

"Somebody," Andrea said with a quiet firmness, "doesn't know how to cut into a spinal cord very well."

Suddenly, Gareth snatched the jar with one hand and punched her in the jaw with his other! She recoiled, feeling the pole once again bounce with her. She looked up, feeling the aching pain in her left jaw. Once again, Andrea saw the Confederate flag practically twirling in its place.

"Bitch." Gareth coldly said, as he snatched both jars. She watched him stomp away, like a little kid whose toy had been taken away. "And I ain't done with your little Southern cooking lesson, you fucking cunt!"

 _Ha! Gotcha that time, didn't I?_

.

Orion. Sirius. The North Star. Ursa Minor.

When you have time to kill, you find ways to occupy yourself. When you are trying to deal with chronic pain, whether it's shoulder and arm pain from being bound or dehydration or hunger or two punches to the jaw or _anything_ , you do the same thing. So, boredom and pain management were Andrea's main reasons for looking up into the nighttime sky. She became a quick learner of astronomy.

At one point, she thought she could see the elusive Sirius stars. A little excited, she leaned far to the left, hoping to catch the cluster. Almost immediately, she heard a groan. But this groan wasn't from walkers or humans. It was from wood.

She craned her head directly upwards, staring at the old pole with the Confederate flag on top. She straightened back up and the pole moved a little. So, once again, she leaned to the left and the pole wiggled to the left. Staring upwards, she tilted to the right and so did the pole.

There was no way the pole could come out of the ground. It was heavy and the wood was solid. But still, it was something to do. And there was something else that was suddenly introduced to the isolated blonde – hope. Regardless of the results, she began.

She leaned to the left. Then leaned to the right. Then she tried to stand up. How was she to fight?

Lean to the left – lean to the right – stand up – stand up – fight, fight, _fight!_

Lean to the left – lean to the right – stand up – stand up – fight, fight, _fight!_

Suddenly, she heard something behind her – a kind of _plop_ sound. It seemed to be something that dropped from the nighttime sky. She turned around and couldn't believe what she was seeing on the ground.

The Confederate flag.

Andrea quickly looked around. Gareth was nowhere in sight, which concerned her a little. She could hear voices of the other men in the vicinity, but the echoes of the woods made it impossible to locate them. But in that moment, that sheer moment of hope that she remembered from earlier, she reached for the flag, grateful that even when the world fell apart, there were still ugly, redneck racists in the world.

There was no breeze to speak of, much to Andrea's chagrin. She so badly wanted the flag to flap in the breeze, since it was just out of her reach. Andrea craned, feeling the pole groan with her. Her outstretched hand almost reached the fabric!

"C'mon! C'mon!" she whispered.

One inch. One lousy inch. She could feel the muscles near her shoulder, stretched to their limit, almost snapping. Andrea could've cried out in pain. And that's when she heard the worst sound she could've heard in that moment –

Footsteps.

Wide-eyed, she frantically reached for the flag, begging and begging her hand to grasp it. Just one inch.

One. Lousy. Inch.

Gravel crunched away from her. Andrea flipped her head towards the sound and saw some twigs on trees being pushed aside. He was only about ten yards away!

"C'MON!" Andrea quietly whimpered. "PLEEEEASE!"

Her fingernails were digging into the earth as she pushed her body towards the flag. The steps got closer. Teeth gritted. Begging and begging and begging.

Andrea made one more lunge towards the fabric!

"Hey, sugar lumps," the familiar voice called out.

Suddenly, she sat up straight as the pole returned to its more upright position. He emerged from the woods.

"So, I'm sure you're wondering why we all call you 'sugar lumps'."

Gareth sat down near the firepit. Andrea was panting, desperately trying to get her heartrate down. Something on the other side of the fire caught his attention and he turned away. That gave Andrea time to look behind her. And that's when she saw…

The flag was still there – and hadn't moved an inch.

She closed her eyes and looked away. So close and yet so far. Anguish threatened the hope that hung around like a stalker. But that's the funny thing about human beings in this harsh, new, _terrifying_ world – fighters keep fighting.

"So, the thing is," Gareth began, pushing a log further into the fire, "we use sugar in a lot of recipes here in the South, don't we?" She was about to respond, but kept going. "Whether it's molasses or sorghum or cane sugar or just plain old white sugar, it seems like there's always at least a quarter cup of sugar to add to the pot."

He smiled up at her, the flames making his attractive face seem ugly. She simply stared at him, only sort of listening to him. Gareth didn't care.

"But you already knew this, Andrea. And I already told you too." He stood up and walked over towards his truck. And Andrea didn't even bother to turn her head to watch him. At that point, with her resolve and optimism dwindling, her defenses were seemingly on hold. Soon he returned, carrying a white, paper bundle. He plopped down with a grunt and a boyish smile on his face.

"This," he heartily began, "will cure something the size offfffff…." He looked around and around and eventually back to her. His eyes drifted down towards her body as she felt that familiar shiver. "Your thigh, for example."

Pretending to care about the conversation, she looked down at her legs for a long moment and then right back up at him. Her expression hadn't changed. Neither had his.

"You see," he began, standing up and taking only two long strides until he was towering over her. And then, he slowly, calculatedly stooped down, pulling out a long pocketknife. He slowly stroked the dull side of the blade on her thigh. She jumped at the contact. He smiled. She frowned. And firewood crackled. "Here's the thing. Your… _beautiful_ quadriceps will cure in just a week…with enough sugar."

"You're sick." Andrea croaked.

Suddenly, he thrust the blade towards her eye! "You're damn right I am! And you are going to taste so, so, _so fucking good_!"

He smiled as the tip of the blade pressed against her cheek. Redness ran to the spot of impact but no blood had been shed. So, he pressed a little harder and she closed her eyes tightly at the pain.

"Gareth!" That voice came from one of the guys.

"What?!"

"We need you over here!"

"OK!"

But he didn't move an inch. Instead, he pressed even further and blood finally oozed out. She opened her eyes, rapidly blinking them. His smile widened.

"See you soon, sugar lumps."

He abruptly pulled the blade back, folded it shut, and in one swift fluid movement, he stood and left. And when Gareth was into the woods, Andrea released her breath desperately fighting to get more and more air into her lungs. A nameless insect flew into her mouth and she unconsciously swallowed it. Things like that no longer bothered her. She had other things to be concerned with by then.

It took at least another minute for her to get over the shock of the most recent events. A human being can only take being afraid for so long until coping mechanisms of _any_ kind can actually work. It was at least another minute before she remembered the flag.

She ignored the shearing pain in her Achilles' tendon as she pushed it into the earth. She rocked back forth repeatedly, chanting that dumb cheer from earlier, just to give her a cadence, a beat to work by. And as the heavy poll gently rolled with her, she reached with each thrust towards the flag. And that's when her fingernail made contact with fabric.

Another push. Fabric.

Another push. More fabric.

Another push. Still _more_ fabric.

One….more…. _push!_ ….

She got it! Clasped between her index and middle finger, she dragged the flag toward her, hearing the narrow wood of the pole drag on the dirt. Success!

Off in the distance, sounds of male voices and an occasional car engine could be heard. But they were very distant. Despite her recent escape, Gareth and his men seemed confident that _this_ time, she wouldn't escape.

Andrea smiled.

Completely ignoring the pain in her fingertips, heel, hips, shoulders, neck, wrists, and fingernails, she contemplated what to do with it. There didn't seem to be anything special about the fabric itself, despite being in good condition. And the pole itself seemed to be good pine and was relatively small. The edges were ragged after being shoved into the other pole for so long that –

And that's when it hit her.

Determined features scored her face as she began to use those very same edges on the ropes that bound her hands behind her.

.

As time went on and the morning sun shone in her eyes, she was irritated when some shiny objects in the distance would temporarily blind her. At first, she just kept working. But as she worked the pole furiously behind her, she finally looked up at what was so damn shiny.

A shell casing. And then another down the path. And then another.

This wasn't unusual. In a world ruled by the dead, shell casings were a dime a dozen. But what _was_ unusual was that the shells were from Rick's .357 magnum. The hefty revolver was not very common since smaller guns would do just nicely. She only counted three shells but she could've been wrong. Andrea completely forgot that ammunition, supplies, canned food, and even precious clean water were all falling out of her satchels as she was dragged to wherever they were.

Andrea chose to get back to work. Wildly running the wood back and forth and back and forth, her mouth was set crookedly and her blonde hair occasionally stuck to her sweaty cheeks. But she didn't care. She didn't even _want_ to think about being food for –

A sound. Something soft. Something…weak. At first, she couldn't figure it out. Coming to a halt, she looked around her, fearing one of the men would come back. But this wasn't –

There it was again. She looked in the other direction. And when she lifted her head and looked down the path, she saw it.

A walker.

And right when she recognized it, it recognized her. And started right towards her.

.


	4. Chapter 4

AN -

So sorry for the delay in updating. Thank you all for your patience.

* * *

.

There were times in her life when Andrea was in a hurry. Whether she was stuck at a red light, late for a court case as an attorney, or running from the CDC before it implodes, she knew how to work feverishly. And how to practice patience. But life sometimes seems to go in slow motion. And this time was one of them.

Violently, primally, she worked on the ropes that bound her and didn't seem to make much progress. She looked up occasionally at the beautiful morning sunshine and the hungry walker approaching her. She couldn't seem to make any headway fast enough!

"Pleeeeease! Pleeeeease! I wanna liiiiiiiive!"

The ropes were so thick! And she could see the walker's dead, gray eyes, only ten yards or so away. Its arms were outstretched, ready and willing to consume its breakfast.

Her hair blew in her eye a little and her shoulders ached so, _so_ badly. And still, the fabric of the ropes only gave way _a little!_

"No! No! No! No! Nooooo!" Andrea wailed, over and over, in time with all of the strokes of thin wood on thick rope.

The walker was moaning excitedly. Mouth open, arms extended, it bound for its easy prey. It was only five yards away. And all Andrea could seem to do was pray!

"No, dear God! Please! Pleeeeeese!" Suddenly, one of the ropes broke free! She let a breath of relief only momentarily before she started on the other. She only had one more rope to go…

The walker grabbed her! Andrea screamed! Its putrid breath was on her shoulder and she felt its lips against her hair! She screamed! She screamed in terror! She screamed for _life!_

"Keep quiet."

Everything went still. She felt something wet and heavy on her lap. Andrea looked down and saw fresh blood that fell on her thigh. At first, she was confused and appeared to be out of danger. Andrea heard the familiar 'slump' of a walker being dispatched and tossed aside. She thought Gareth or maybe even Joel had killed the walker. She was _not_ about to express her gratitude as she turned and looked up, over her shoulder.

The morning sun blinded her momentarily, putting her rescuer in shadow. But then, the savior moved into the light and smiled at her.

Rick. Rick Grimes. Rick Grimes! Fucking Rick Grimes!

A lifetime's relief smashed her senses and brought tears to her eyes. Someone else was working on her ropes. And when she turned over her other shoulder, another smile greeted her.

Michonne.

"Oh thank fucking, motherfucking, fuck, fuck, fuck, fucking _God_ you're here!" Andrea wailed. Michonne's sword cut her free, sending a mountain of tingling sensations through her whole body. Michonne had to help bring Andrea's arms forward and rest them on her lap.

"Well," Rick began, with that familiar Southern drawl, "you left us a nice trail."

"Huh?" Andrea asked.

"The bullets." He held his familiar .357 magnum bullet up. "These are no longer a dime a dozen. And shell casings too. They led us right to you."

Andrea smiled again and was helped to a standing position, something she hadn't experienced in quite a while.

"So," Rick began, "where are the oth-? Oomph!"

Rick was stopped by a sudden hug from Andrea. She squeezed his neck tight as little whimpers escaped her throat. He couldn't help but smile as he hugged her back. Little positive affirmations were whispered in his ear and he nodded to her. Abruptly she pulled back and practically fell on Michonne, hugging her as well.

"Glad you're back." Michonne whispered as a short cry of relief fell from Andrea's mouth. It was Andrea's turn to nod on the strong woman's shoulder. Finally, Andrea pulled herself away and pulled herself together. Rick and Michonne must've sensed that she needed a second or two to do this. So they gave her this time, looking around for Terminans or walkers. That's one thing that was always admired about fighters – just give them the few seconds they need to collect themselves and they're back.

"Do you," Andrea began, "have an extra gun or something?"

"No." Rick answered.

"Wait." Michonne said, pulling a bag off her shoulder. "I have something you could probably use." She was rifling through it as little bugs collected around them in the Georgia late afternoon. "Here." Andrea was presented a Bowie knife. She remembered this knife. She had one like it before. It felt familiar in her hand and she liked it. And that's when her face changed. Her jaw set in determination, she was ready to tell her story.

"I was taken by some Terminans." She said to Rick. He came closer to her and Michonne flanked them.

"Terminans?" Rick asked in surprise. "I thought they were all killed…" He paused and took a step closer to the blonde. "Did…did you do all of that? Back at Terminus?" Half smiling, she nodded. Rick smiled very briefly and then went stoic. "Thank you, Andrea."

"Thank you, Andrea." Michonne echoed. All the blonde did was nod.

"You saved our lives." Rick said. She looked at him. There was something there that wasn't being said. But it didn't matter then. Not then.

"The leader of their group is here." She began.

"What?!" Rick venomously asked.

"Y-yeah." Andrea answered. "His name is-"

"Gareth."

"You met him?"

"Oh yeah." Michonne said. "A real charmer."

"Yeah, sure." Andrea said. "He's sick as hell."

"You're tellin' me." Rick said. "Where is he now?"

"I'm not sure. I know that they go off for periods of time and then come back. Gareth…" her face soured a bit, "likes me or something."

Rick thought for just a second and then said, "Good."

"Uh, beg your pardon?"

"We need that."

"Excuse me?"

"No, no," Michonne chimed in, "he's right."

"What are you two…?" And then Andrea caught on. "Oh no. No guys. Please. I just got back with you two and now you want me to…"

"We _have_ to." Rick answered.

"Oh noooooo!" Andrea whined.

"It's the only way. They can't be allowed to do this to people." Michonne said, gently touching her wrist. Andrea winced a little in pain from rope burns. But compared to the other pain in her entire body, she didn't care. She just didn't want to…

"Well…" Andrea began, and then sighed. "What do you want me to do after that?"

"We'll take care of that." Rick said.

"Yeah, don't worry." Michonne added. "We'll take care-"

"I'll do it." The blonde interrupted.

"What?" Rick _and_ Michonne said.

"I said, _I'll_ do it." Andrea responded, with determination.

"You sure?" the sword wielder asked.

"You don't know what he's…done to…" Andrea didn't finish. She didn't have to.

Rick checked around for any signs of walkers or Terminans. Satisfied there were none, he grabbed the torn ropes discarded near the pole and began affixing them back to it. Andrea watched him, a curious detachment on her face. Michonne watched them both, sword at the ready, but her eye protectively on the still-attractive blonde. Finally, Rick was ready, holding up a piece of rope in both hands. He turned and looked up at Andrea. Then Michonne did too. After a deep breath, Andrea walked over and sat down, putting her hands behind her but keeping her new knife on the ready.

Gently, Rick moved each hand closer together and loosely tied the ropes. Of course, he didn't knot them or anything. They were just wound around her wrists. It _looked_ like they were tight, but they weren't really. When he was done, he stood up and walked in front of her, flanked by Michonne.

"We'll be," Rick softly began, "right over there behind those trees." When Andrea didn't say anything, he hunched down. "Are you sure about-?"

"Go."

Rick stared at her for a minute. And then to his surprise, she asked, "Can I borrow your gun just in case?" He stared at her bewildered. "Just in case."

"But," Rick protested, "we'll be right over there."

"I know. But it's just for backup. Please." When he didn't answer, she added, "I know how the safety works." He half-smiled at that and then handed over his trusty .357 magnum. He placed it on the ground near her hip. Normally, he would've been uncomfortable touching Andrea's hip and buttock, but this was a survival situation.

After that, Rick and Michonne took off and hid, jumping over the walker's corpse. No one knew how long it would take for Gareth or any one of the Terminans to show up. But after getting answers from one of them, they'd know more information.

Despite the shade from nearby trees, Rick and Michonne were incredibly hot, thanks to the Georgia summer. She grabbed her water bottle and offered it to Rick. He waved his hand, declining. And when she lifted the water bottle to her lips, she saw Andrea sitting there. She had no shade whatsoever. The late afternoon sun was beating down on her from behind, making her dirty blonde hair shimmer that much more. But then, she saw something that disturbed her a little. Andrea was panting.

Suddenly, Michonne stood up, looked around, and started towards her.

"Michonne!" Rick loudly whispered. "Get back here!"

She ignored him, coming to a kneeled stop right beside Andrea. Rick watched Michonne hold up a water bottle to Andrea's lips, who heartily drank. He didn't like this. He didn't know where Gareth and the others were. Rapidly checking right and left, he didn't see any of them but still didn't like it. Michonne was finally done and after swiping some of Andrea's hair behind her ear, she got up and ran back to their hiding place.

"That was risky." Rick whispered.

"It was necessary." She replied.

Meanwhile, Andrea felt refreshed. She hadn't had water in a long time and it felt good. She was beginning to feel heat stroke coming on and that would've been very bad. Looking around, she wasn't surprised to see the Confederate flag near her or a bit of rope. It was refreshing to just sit there without the tight ropes on her wrists. And it was even more reassuring to have her friends nearby.

The trap was set.

Now, all that was required was waiting. And waiting. And waiting. Her eyes never grew accustomed to the sun was it traveled in the sky. The light blinded her often and it was difficult to see anything clearly. As with all traps, there was a measure of nervousness she hadn't felt since she took on the Federal government as a civil rights attorney. But it was so, so dangerous to think of life before the dead began to walk. So, she shook that memory from her mind and sighed.

There was some rustling in the nearby trees. Alarmed, she turned her head to the left, away from Rick and Michonne. Branches bent and foliage crunched on the ground, but she couldn't see anything or anyone. She hoped it wasn't a walker. She hoped it was Gareth. Hell, she just hoped…

Finally, Joel emerged from the brush. He stared at her with clear hate in his eyes. His brown hair was matted and dirty under his red, white, and blue baseball cap and he stroked his beard. Arrogantly, he emerged from the woods and walked up towards her. He didn't appear to see the dead walker or the Confederate flag. Joel's eyes were glued to Andrea.

"It's funny." Joel began with that heavy Southern drawl, "I was beginnin' to like you, Andrea. I really was." He squatted down near her and eyed her entire body. "Now, I might like you with salt and pepper."

"Fuck off." Andrea disgustedly said.

And then, his eyes went dark and his voice turned feral. "Not until I have some fun with you…"

Slowly, painfully, she turned and saw the look on his face. She immediately knew what he was going to do. Her fingers grasped the knife behind her on the other side of her body. She couldn't reach for the gun – he'd figure out she wasn't really tied up!

"You kicked me in the nuts." He matter-of-factly said. "My wife did that to me once." Joel scooted so close to her that his knee was only inches from her mouth. "Just once…" He stroked her arm and she shook at the contact. "OJ got away with it. I can too…"

Involuntarily, Andrea tried to pull away from him and that only made him smile. His brown, disgusting teeth shined in her face and his fetid breath almost made her vomit. Joel moved his hand over to her face and pulled it back to him.

"I wonder," he nastily said, "what your pussy tastes like?"

"You'll never know." She whispered.

Joel laughed. Andrea glared. And suddenly, everything happened.

She snatched her knife and stabbed Joel in the neck! He cried out and fell to the side, blood pouring out of his tendon. Andrea pulled the knife out and plunged again! His eyes bulged and he couldn't cry out. Joel's eyes were wide with shock and terror as he lied helpless on the ground. His arms swung at her as she stabbed him a third time. Finally, his body lied still and Andrea wasn't aware she was crying. Instead, she fell back away from him and turned to the side, letting the horrors of the past two days consume her.

She was dimly aware that Rick and Michonne were nearby. Andrea may have even seen Michonne plunge her sword into Joel's head. Her vision was like a dream, where life and death don't have a definite border and everything one color becomes another. Michonne offered her some water and Andrea was barely aware of it. She felt Rick's touch as he tried to help her up. He reclaimed his gun. But she couldn't move. She couldn't think. Instead, her eyes fell on the Confederate flag and she stared at it, somewhere between the living and the dead.

"The South rises again." Andrea whispered.

.


End file.
